National Secret
by SingularToast
Summary: Santana calls Puck during his live morning radio show using a false name to finally admit something about herself. OhioFM!verse. Pucktana friendship with implied Brittana and Puckleberry.


**This little one follows on in my Ohio FM universe which I started with On Air. Just a little exploration into Santana and what her relationship with Puck means to both of them, from Puck's POV :)**

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><p>"Alright all, it's eight-am and this is Puck with you on this awesome Wednesday. So, after a few years of doing this segment you'd think management would move onto something bigger and better, but no they still think I'm qualified to give out relationship advice over state radio. Snaps for me." Glancing down at the message flashing in front of him, Puck aired the first call on hold and said, "Right, first caller today is Sarah. Hey Sarah, I heard you're having a little boyfriend trouble?"<p>

_"Uh _no_. She's a chick. She's my … you know, she's my … we're together. Whatever."_

Holy shit. He knew that voice. And yeah, okay, over the last few years of knowing the other radio host through work he'd wondered more than once if she really was … if she … but holy shit. "Alright." His voice sounded hoarse and a little garbled, so he cleared his throat and tried again. "Alright. Uh, so … what do you need help with?"

Listening as she took a deep breath, it seriously boggled his mind when Santana said, _"So, I've been with her for about six months now, and she's an awesome chick, right? She's hilarious and sexy and, yeah okay she's a little dumb, but I'm good for her 'cause I help her with all that."_

Almost instantly Puck knew who she was talking about. A few months ago – six, apparently – he, Santana and Rachel had gone out to the pub down the road from his place and Santana had struck up a conversation with some dumb blonde chick there. Tiffany or Brittany or something. The blonde has hot as fuck, and she and Santana had been grinding up the dance floor the entire night, then suddenly he and Rachel hadn't been able to find either of them. He'd just assumed at the time that the two of them had found some willing guy and gone home with him.

Now he's pretty confident there wasn't a guy involved at all.

"So, what's the problem San—uh Sarah?"

_"The problem is I dunno what to do to … you know, tell people. Puck, you're the first person I've admitted this to. And I swear, if you tell anyone I will end you."_

"Babe," he said, trying so hard not to laugh. "You're on live radio."

_"Not the point. You know what I mean."_

Yeah. Yeah he did. "Okay, so who do you need to tell? Who do you need help confessing all this to?"

_"See, that's the thing. They're all listening right now. I told my family to get up early and turn the radio on. So this is ... this is kinda it."_

"You're telling your family over live radio that you're—"

_"Don't you be putting labels on me you _—bleep—_er! I'm just telling them that I'm in a relationship."_

"With a woman."

_"Yes with a woman!"_

"Sarah, babe, you—"

_"Look this wasn't supposed to be a discussion, alright? I just wanted to say my piece and be done with it. So … so now I have and now I'm gonna go."_

Then the dial tone sounded.

Sighing, Puck made some glib comment about rude people and moved onto the next caller, but his mind didn't stray far from Santana and her admission for the rest of his show. When he finished up and had handed the reins over to the lunch crew he stood outside the studio for a long time, just thinking and running a hand over his head. It was a nervous habit, one that always seemed to come back when he was stressed or uncomfortable. Shaking his head, Puck walked away from the cubicles and offices and down to the staff kitchen.

That was where he found Santana sitting at one of the tables, picking absently at her nails. When he entered the room she glanced up, but neither of them said anything as he moved about and made them both a coffee before sitting down beside her.

They were both silent for a while, Puck unsure of what to say and Santana ... well, she was probably just refusing to be the one to speak first. But the longer she sat there the more agitated she got, and she eventually bit out, "Go on then, hit me with it."

"What?"

"Whatever sexist comment you've got brewing in that head of yours, out with it. Just hurry the fuck up so we can get this over with and I can go home. I've been here all morning already and I've got my own show to air this afternoon, don't really want to spend the whole fucking day here."

Swallowing thickly, Puck asked, "You called from in here?"

That seemed to surprise her, and she frowned slightly before replying. "No, I locked myself in one of the conference rooms."

Nodding, Puck took a drink of his coffee and stayed silent for a bit longer. Then, "Why me?"

"What?"

"Why'd you pick me? You could've just told them, or left a message on an answering machine, or ... _something_. Why'd you do it through me?"

Staring at him for a long time, Santana seemed to have trouble finding her words and she scowled fiercely. "Look, you're like, the closest thing I have to a friend, alright? I didn't know where else to go and I thought you'd at least not laugh in my face or something when I told you."

"I'm not laughing now."

"No," she agreed quietly. "But I know you're thinking up some stupid thing to tell me about girl-on-girl or a threesome or whatever the fuck else. Just get it over with, alright? I can take it." But when he just stayed silent she slammed her fist down on the table and yelled, "Damn it Puck, just fucking say something, will you?"

"Why? S'no big deal." Smiling crookedly, he added, "Just means we've got something else in common now."

Sitting there blinking at him, Puck thought he saw something glint in her eye before Santana turned her head away quickly, her hair falling to cover her face. Clearing his throat, Puck reached behind him to the counter and snagged a few tissues out of the box that sat there, dropping them on the table in front of her.

"Anyway," he said awkwardly, rising from his chair. "I've got paperwork, and ... you know, calls and stuff, so ..."

"Yeah," she replied, her voice muffled slightly. "You go do your thing."

Nodding, even though she couldn't see it, Puck turned to walk out of there. He was almost out the door when she called his name and he looked back.

With one tissue raised to blot the tears in her eyes, Santana offered him a watery smile and whispered, "Thanks." But then her features hardened again and she said, "Now fuck off."

Grinning, Puck gave her a one-fingered salute and walked through the building back to his cubicle.


End file.
